


Silk

by dayindisguise



Series: Things Eames Loves [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayindisguise/pseuds/dayindisguise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things Eames loves: Arthur’s black silk boxers.</p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/a0bef9bfb906e937c222d624d6c444e3/tumblr_mfvqel3GW11s1hd4oo1_r1_500.gif">this gif</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk

Things Eames loves: Arthur’s black silk boxers. The ones that barely come down his thighs. The ones that slide up when he plants his feet on the floor. The ones that are unbearably soft, that make Eames’s hands feel like sandpaper when he traces the waistband with his fingers and slowly draws them down Arthur’s body. The black silk boxers Eames had bought him for Christmas one year, standing in the department store, staring at the lustrous fabric in the elegant box in front of him. Real silk. None of that fake shit. None of that blank-percent polyester, cotton, spandex. Silk. Ones that would slide down Arthur’s thighs when he planted his feet on the floor. Ones that would make his hands feel like sandpaper, his impeccably soft hands.

Eames would run his hands from flesh to silk, down the toned obliques of Arthur’s body, hips lifting, muscles flexing, truly appreciating the hours Arthur put in at the gym. The silk slid down his thighs, powerful muscle exposed though it had barely been hidden. His fingers progressed inward, languidly moving over the tanned flesh, descending over the black silk, slowly dragging it down with his fingers, revealing more toned, tanned skin. There was no tan line. A perfect match to the skin which didn’t see light often, trapped in value-pack underwear, Fruit of the Loom, maybe Klein if Arthur was in the mood, if Eames bought them for him. Tonight, lying on the floor beneath Eames, arms splayed at his sides, hips lifting with the touch of smooth hands, black silk sliding over his thighs, Eames knew where he’d be paying the most attention. 

 


End file.
